


she's looking through the wrong end

by lore949



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F, Mentions of Shay - Freeform, but like barely, i love u Delphine, mentions of Cosima
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:28:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21772960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lore949/pseuds/lore949
Summary: Sarah had never been an example of an honorable human being, but it felt wrong and dirty for her eyes to wander over Delphine’s freckles, for her to imagine the ones that surely covered other parts of her body. Delphine was saying something but Sarah’s brain was hung up on the mole on the tip of her nose.(Set in season 3.)
Relationships: Delphine Cormier/Sarah Manning
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	she's looking through the wrong end

**Author's Note:**

> Y’all, this is so self-indulgent. Who even reads OB fic in the year of our lord 2019? Who even reads Sarah/Delphine fic? That’s like a crack ship or something. Anyway, I have a lot of Delphine feelings of the emotional and the hormonal variety, and I really really love Sarah. I kind of love them together? It feels so destructive and bitchy. I also love repetition, which you’ll see once you read. 
> 
> This is set in season 3, in a parallel universe where like, nothing serious happens or it happens but in the background so I don’t talk about it :). There’s no actual science or thrillery plot because I’m real dumb. I mostly just wanted to see how these two girls would kiss and stuff in a world that’s as close to canon as possible. Let me know what you think!

There was something in the room that hadn’t been there before. Tension, but the kind that electrified Sarah, that made her want to do bad things. Like fuck her sister’s girlfriend. Now ex-girlfriend. Still the person Cosima was in love with.

Sarah and Delphine had been forced to spend more time together, usually in situations of high stress. If Sarah thought about it logically, it made sense for her body to react differently, to be on high alert, aware of this woman in ways she had never been before.

Sarah had never been an example of an honorable human being, but it felt wrong and dirty for her eyes to wander over Delphine’s freckles, for her to imagine the ones that surely covered other parts of her body. Delphine was saying something but Sarah’s brain was hung up on the mole on the tip of her nose.

“Sarah, are you listening to me?” Delphine asks, hands on her hips, looking more like a hot school teacher than the head of a nefarious corporation. The way she pronounces her name is foreign and careful. “I need you to be present.”

They were in Rachel’s apartment and Sarah was getting ready, trying on outfits. Topside was coming. Whoever was high up remained unconvinced about DYAD’s intentions and the organization’s functioning under a new boss, so Sarah was forced to continue with this fucked up role play.

“Yeah, I got it,” Sarah says, sounding more exasperated than she feels. Delphine takes a step back, as if bracing herself from an attack. “You need to toughen up, alright? If I scare you, I don’t know how the fuck you’re gonna handle round two with Ferdinand or... whoever the fuck Topside sends.” Sarah says, waving a hand roughly and pulling out a white dress from the closet. She throws it on the bed and chucks her jacket on the floor. She unbuckles her belt and looks at Delphine.

“You don’t scare me,” Delphine says.

“Yeah, sure.” Sarah raises her eyebrows but Delphine stays rooted. She nods towards the bedroom door and Delphine gets the hint. She leaves without making a sound.

Luckily, Topside doesn’t send anyone as unnerving as Ferdinand and Sarah’s Rachel holds up well.

Delphine does most of the talking during the meeting. One of the high executives, who’s name Sarah can’t remember, keeps ogling at Delphine, perked at the edge of his seat like a dog waiting for food. It’s like he’s never seen a beautiful woman before. Delphine plays him like a fiddle, periodically tucking her hair behind her ear and throwing out technical terms that float completely over Sarah’s head. Sarah nods when Delphine gives her looks that mean that they’re coworkers and Sarah tries her best to look like an intimidating frigid bitch. Despite her smile, Delphine is a consummate professional, keeping the meeting on track and not giving any openings for doubts. Sarah thinks what’s-his-face forgot that there are other people in the room.

The meeting ends fast. As soon as the executives leave - what’s-his-face shaking Sarah’s hand gruffly and not even eyeing her Rachel makeup - Sarah walks towards Delphine’s desk and pulls the backpack she’d stashed from the inside of one of the desk cabinets. She didn’t want to go back to Rachel’s apartment again, and had chosen to pack all of her clothes and essentials. She puts it on and leaves without saying goodbye.

Sarah catches her reflection on the way out of the building and jumps up stupidly. She looks at her face, with that ridiculous wig, at her body, wearing that pristine white dress that makes her feel dirtier than anything she owns, and at her ratty backpack. It’s black and smudged, with a faded Sex Pistols patch on it. The sight makes her a little hysterical, like she wants to cry and then laugh.

When she gets home, she pulls a beer from the fridge and takes a long bath. She tries her hardest not to think about blonde hair, blonde wigs and pristine white office spaces.

Weeks pass. Life keeps on going, relentless as usual, one drama followed by a bigger one.

Cosima starts dating a blonde named Shay, whom she introduces to Sarah one day with a big glinty grin on her face. Sarah can tell Cosima is trying her best to heal, to cover up the hole in her heart with something, anything. She thinks it’s a shame that Cosima is so romantic. If she gave this girl a real chance there might be something good there. Shay feeds something in Cosima that Delphine never could, the earthy and spiritual over the analytical and sharp. In the brief amount of time Sarah spent with them, Shay had brought Cosima tea and had rubbed her back tenderly, listening to every word that was said with invested eyes. But how could Sarah say anything to her sister? Who was she to criticize Cosima’s penchant for bad impulses? It must be genetic, Sarah thinks, this need to want to wreak havoc upon your own life, to find the loose thread and pull until the fabric rips.

Sarah’s having a drink at Bobbie’s when she sees her. Delphine, standing out spectacularly among a sea of blacks and greys. She’s wearing a white coat in a pub, which is stupid and not practical. She’s seated by the bar. In front of her there’s a martini with an olive. Her long fingers are fanned on the bottom of the glass, keeping the drink in place.

There’s no angel perched over Sarah’s shoulder, telling her to leave things alone, to mind her own business. No, Sarah walks straight ahead towards Delphine, ready to prod.

“Are you stalking me?” Sarah asks. Delphine turns and startles, like she usually does when faced with Sarah.

“Sarah,” Delphine says. To her credit, there’s no confusion or puzzlement in her eyes. She knows how to differentiate her clones, maybe better than anyone else in the world. “What are you doing here?”

“This is my bar.”

“Oh, I,” Delphine starts and swallows. “I didn’t know.” She looks sadder than usual.

“Don’t tell me you’re here to get a drink after work,” Sarah says, taking a gulp of her drink.

Bobbie’s bar is nowhere near DYAD; it’s right by Felix’s apartment. Delphine was probably hoping to catch a glimpse of Cosima, to get a chance to throw her longing looks and continue with this torturous form of foreplay. Maybe Delphine was gathering enough liquid courage to stop by the apartment and beg for forgiveness. Sarah is 90% sure Cosima would take her back instantly, no questions asked.

“I didn’t,” Delphine says. She licks her lips and takes a sip from her martini. Her lipstick stays on, a drop of clear liquid sticking to her lower lip. Her nails are painted dark red and there’s not a chip or blemish on them. Her hair is perfectly straightened and blonde and her makeup is impeccable, like she took the time to make herself beautiful. Delphine’s perfume stands out from the naturally humid bar smell. She looks cracked open, her feelings and insecurities slipping out for the entire bar to see. It sets Sarah’s teeth on edge.

“Pining is bad look. Especially on you,” Sarah says. She can’t help herself; she’s never had patience for girls like this, the ones that look like they might cry when someone looks at them wrong, the ones who topple over and make a fuss when someone nudges them by accident.

Delphine smiles. “Fuck you,” she says. It’s prim, offhand, with almost no bite to it, like Sarah’s not worth the time to get angry over.

Sarah hums and leans against the bar, twisting her body to get a better look at Delphine.

“The hell are you drinking?” The hell are you wearing? The hell are you doing here? Sarah thinks.

“A martini.” Delphine raises her voice at the end, as if asking a question or speaking to a stupid person. Sarah shakes her head and raises her arm for Tom, the bartender with the tattoos. He looks at her and smiles.

“Can I get two bourbons?” She asks. Tom looks between her and Delphine.

“Who’s your friend?” He reaches for a bottle on the top shelf and his muscles shift. If it were a different night Sarah might have indulged. She might have gotten free drinks out of it and might have waited for Tom’s shift to end. They could have gone to his apartment, or maybe, if they didn’t have the patience, they could have just gone to the back alley. It would’ve been a predictable encounter, like reading through a script of Sarah’s life from a couple of years ago.

Delphine looks at Sarah and Sarah feels warm, like someone’s lighting a fire from her insides. It’s not pleasant. It’s uncharted territory in a myriad of ways.

“She’s not my friend,” Sarah says, leaning close to Tom but keeping her eyes on Delphine. “More like coworker.”

Tom laughs as if Sarah made a joke. She gets it. Delphine and her might as well be different animals. Delphine’s French and Sarah’s a mutt; Delphine’s tall and Sarah’s short; Delphine’s obviously brilliant, she might as well have diplomas and dollar bills falling out of her pockets, and Sarah flunked out of high school. The world seems tailor-made for people like Delphine while people like Sarah barely have the time to stay alive, scraping by minute by minute.

“Oh yeah? I’d love to see you guys work,” Tom says, wagging his eyebrows.

Sarah smiles. Tom’s a dick but she doesn’t care enough to be annoyed. Delphine’s brow furrows. Sarah can practically see the cogs turning inside her head and it makes her smile wide. Delphine opens her mouth and closes it. Decides to take a sip of her bourbon and savor it. She doesn’t make a face when the drink goes down.

Sarah leans closer to Delphine. “He thought we were prostitutes,” she says. “Well, I’m probably the prostitute and you’re an escort or some shit.”

Delphine unexpectedly laughs. “It’s happened before, I’m not surprised,” she says.

“People think you’re a prostitute?”

Delphine nods. “In America, especially. I thought it was the hair but it might just be me.”

“I’d think you’d be offended,” Sarah says, at a loss.

Delphine shrugs. “There are worse things to be.” She moves her hands as she speaks, a gesture that she might have picked from Cosima. Or that Cosima might have up picked from her. “Anyway, I have always had older boyfriends, it’s not a crazy assumption to make.”

Without her permission, Sarah’s mind fills with images. Big hands running through a freckled body. A white and pristine back arching as someone takes her from behind. Hazel eyes rolling within eyelids. Full lips forming a perfect ‘o’ shape. Sarah takes a thirsty gulp from her drink.

“Is that how you got to be a doctor? Your boyfriends pay for your school?”

If there’s one thing Sarah knows about Delphine is that she works. Relentlessly. When Cosima complained about their relationship, the problems that came up were always DYAD and Delphine’s work ethic, in that order. Sarah wants to make Delphine uncomfortable, she wants to push her buttons. The fact that Delphine is speaking openly, revealing private details about her life as if she and Sarah were acquaintances or friends getting a drink after work makes Sarah want to lash out.

Delphine looks at Sarah with a challenge or something on her face. Even if this is not the woman whose face breaks in easy affection or heartbreak - the woman she was with Cosima - Delphine is still Delphine. No matter the makeup and the straight hair, there are cracks on her mask. She remains unable to completely hide her bright emotions; they shine, like rocks under a clear river.

“I’m rich,” Delphine says.

“Must be nice,” Sarah shrugs.

“It is.”

Delphine looks pleased, like if by refusing to play Sarah’s game she’s superior or something. Sarah’s about to tell her to fuck off when a man yells loudly and a metal song starts blaring from the speakers. Delphine looks as if she were smelling something unpleasant.

A bottle breaks behind them and there’s more yelling. There’s a shove and Sarah’s head snaps roughly against the bar. The pain is blinding but more than that she’s angry.

“What the fuck?” Sarah says, grabbing her empty glass tumbler and turning around to face whoever pushed her. There’s a fight going on and she’s shoved again. Sarah shoves back without looking and throws the glass. It makes a delicious pop against the wall and misses a guy’s head by a hair. He turns towards her, eyes wide, and points in her direction. Sarah’s heartbeat pounds in her eardrums.

There are bouncers splitting up the fight and Delphine grabs Sarah by the waist with a surprising amount of strength, dragging her away from the mess and out of the bar. The street is cold and it’s dark out. Sarah shoves Delphine off and stumbles into a trash can.

“You need stitches,” Delphine says, eyes big and spooked. Her warm breath leaves clouds of smoke on the air. She points towards Sarah’s forehead and Sarah feels something warm and dense trickle down her brow.

“Shit.”

Before she knows it Sarah’s in a car and Delphine is driving. The car smells like leather and perfume. Sarah’s hand is covered with blood and she smears it on the car’s door handle by accident. She tries to wipe it off with her arm but only succeeds in spreading it more.

“Where are you taking me?” Sarah asks.

“My apartment. I can stitch you up and call you a cab,” Delphine says, with a voice that doesn’t leave room for argument. Sarah’s exhausted, the adrenaline having left her body. She doesn’t speak for the rest of the ride.

Delphine parks in the building’s spacious garage. She gets out of the car fast, pulling out a black briefcase and a black purse, and Sarah trails behind, pressing her wound with the sleeve of her leather jacket. The material doesn’t absorb anything and the blood just pools against her skin uncomfortably.

The building’s lobby is metallic and it has sculptures and paintings. The doorman is behind a desk and he greets Delphine politely, calling her Dr. Cormier. He looks at Sarah, who tries her best to hide the stained part of her face, and reaches for the phone.

“She’s with me,” Delphine says, and continues to walk towards the elevators. Once they’re inside, she presses the number 7 and low elevator music fills their ears. Was this a new apartment? Had Cosima been here at some point? There’s a pit in Sarah’s stomach and she doesn’t know the source of it.

Delphine’s apartment is tasteful. There’s a lot of blacks and greys, giving the place a sterile and sort of masculine look, which surprises Sarah. There’s a vase with some flowers about to die in it.

“The bathroom is over there,” Delphine says, pointing towards the dark hallway. She walks towards a marble counter and drops her suitcase and purse there. She takes off her jacket and drapes it over a chair in a smooth motion. Her hands travel down her calves and down her ankles to take off her red-soled heels.

Sarah turns and goes to the bathroom, too inside her head to notice the artwork or the frames on the walls. She sits on the edge of the tub and doesn’t bother turning the lights on. The blood in her hands is dry and she rubs her fingers together. She pictures the copper flakes falling over the white tiled floor and leaving her DNA inside this bathroom. She doesn’t know how to feel about there existing evidence of this moment beyond tonight.

The lights flicker on and Sarah winces. Delphine steps inside the bathroom with a first aid kit. She places her utensils on the counter. She has no shoes on and the nails in her toes are painted dark red, matching the nails on her hands. She’s still wearing her alcohol stained shirt. Sarah tries to picture Delphine wearing something soft or pajamas but she can’t.

“I’m going to clean the wound to get a better look,” Delphine says, pronouncing the words cleanly, with her crisp ‘t’s. Sarah doesn’t flinch as Delphine begins to clean her forehead with a wet towel.

“Can scientists do surgery?” Sarah asks, voice raspy.

Delphine’s lip quivers. “Some can.” She wets the towel again and swipes it against Sarah’s neck, cleaning the dried blood. She holds Sarah’s chin softly to keep her head in place. When she’s done, she throws the now pink towel in the tub.

“I will apply a sedative now,” Delphine says, narrating her motions. Sarah has never been vain but there’s a rush of fear that she struggles against voicing. Delphine can read it on her face. “The wound is near the hairline so the scar will be barely visible.”

“Okay,” Sarah nods.

Delphine grabs a syringe and a small bottle. She punctures it and suctions out the sedative with the ease of someone who’s done this a million times. “Ready?” she asks, already leaning forward. Sarah leans back on reflex, almost falling into the tub. She holds on to Delphine’s elbow, making her lose her balance and lean an arm against the wall behind the tub.

“Careful!” Delphine drops the needle and helps Sarah back to the edge of the tub. “Don’t do that,” she says, as if talking to an unruly child. “I could have poked out your eye.”

“Better for my Rachel cloneswaps,” Sarah says without breath, laughing a bit in her nervousness. Her heart is pounding and her elbow hurts from when she hit it against the wall. She’s about to run a hand through her hair when Delphine catches her wrist.

“I just disinfected the area. Don’t touch it,” Delphine says. She bends over and reaches for the syringe. Sarah gets another whiff of her perfume, somehow much stronger and enveloping than it was in the car.

“I’m bad with needles,” Sarah says.

Delphine gives her a look, aware of the irony. She checks the syringe for bubbles. Sarah stays still and the pinch on her forehead is quick, almost painless. Soft.

Delphine threads the surgical needle with string. She presses a gloved finger over Sarah’s wound, tenderly. “Feel this?” she asks.

“No.”

Delphine starts to work. She’s methodical and Sarah feels the strange and painless tug of a needle and thread going in and out of her skin.

“What are you, 30, 32?” Sarah asks.

“28,” Delphine says. Crips hard t’s, French cadence.

“Were you in school as a fetus?”

Delphine smiles. “Feels like it.”

Delphine cuts the string, the scissors in her hand a flash of silver. “Done.” She takes off her gloves and dumps them in the wastebasket.

Sarah swallows and nods, her hand unconsciously reaching for the wound. “No touching,” Delphine says, holding onto her wrist again.

“Thanks,” Sarah says, looking down at Delphine’s hand on her wrist, a dash of dark nails over skin. The word ‘tenebrous’ comes to her mind for some reason. This is how clones get murdered, she thinks, lured in by dangerous and beautiful people who prick them with needles and steal their DNA.

Sarah stretches her legs in a ‘v’ in front of her, relieving the pressure of sitting down uncomfortably on the edge of a tub. Delphine’s stands in between them, eyes following the movement.

Sarah shakes off Delphine’s grip and almost drops her hand. She doesn’t. She hooks two fingers in Delphine’s skirt. She feels Delphine’s stomach tense as she breathes in. Their eyes meet.

“I’m going to call you a cab,” Delphine says.

“Okay.”

Delphine takes a step back and Sarah’s fingers slip out from her skirt. Sarah gets up and in her boots she’s almost at a height with a barefoot Delphine.

Delphine turns to leave and Sarah makes up her mind. She reaches out and holds onto her elbow.

“What are you doing?” Delphine says. She looks wary, maybe even frightened, as if Sarah were the one with DYAD, the one with the needles and scalpels. The look she gives her recenters Sarah. People have looked at her this way before. Despite the circumstances and the foreign body that’s in front of her, Sarah knows this look. She can’t lie to herself when she’s so acquainted with the heat in someone’s eyes, with the coiling in her own stomach.

Sarah thinks about leaving the apartment, about going home to her kid. She grants Cosima one last flickering thought. Then she shuts it down and puts it all away, to be dealt with tomorrow.

Sarah steps closer, her eyes never leaving Delphine. She kisses her and Delphine barely breathes, barely moves. Sarah’s mouth drifts down Delphine’s jaw, down her ear. She bites on her earlobe and sucks.

“Stop,” Delphone whispers. Her hands are bent at the elbows, stiff at her sides. Deer in headlights. Sarah leans back and looks at her. Sarah’s eyes drift from Delphine’s wide eyes, to the mole on her nose, to her parted lips. She’s never kissed anyone who looks like this. Sarah holds on to Delphine’s neck and kisses her again.

The shift is instant. Once Delphine kisses back she’s wanton. Her kisses are messy, mouth open, tongue rubbing against lips, teeth and tongue. Delphine puts her hands on Sarah’s shoulders and runs them down her back, as if she knows the dips and bends of her body.

Sarah pushes her out of the bathroom and Delphine walks them backwards towards her bedroom. They keep kissing, their movement making their lips touch their chins, ungracefully. Sarah’s hands make their way under Delphine’s shirt. She cups her breasts roughly over her bra and nudges the fabric out of the way. She moves fast, trying not to let her mind catch up. She kisses down Delphine’s neck and tries to lick as much skin as possible, savoring the taste and the moment.

Delphine’s bedroom is the most humane room in the apartment. It’s organized but not pristine, containing evidence of movement and life in it. There are shoes and fancy shirts streamed about. A jacket hangs on the doorknob.

Delphine steps back, breaking contact with Sarah. She takes off her shirt and unclips her bra. Sarah can’t look away, disarmed. Delphine’s hair is mussed, her natural curls losing some of their rigidity. Sarah feels a knot in her chest that she tries to snuff out. She kisses her again, swallowing the moan Delphine makes when Sarah’s hands begin to hike up her skirt.

They fall on the bed and Sarah pulls down Delphine’s underwear. It’s black and it’s lace and Sarah wants to steal it, to keep it someplace safe.

Delphine’s eyes are lidded and her face is a puzzle. Her cheeks are flushed and her ears are red. Sarah lays back on top of her and puts a finger inside of her, making Delphine gasp sharply, not entirely in pleasure.

“Shit, sorry,” Sarah says, trying to pull her hand back. Delphine stops her, holding on to her wrist.

“It’s okay,” Delphine says. Her eyes search Sarah’s face and Sarah kisses her, awkward. Sarah doesn’t want to think or linger, she doesn’t want the spell to break. She moves her hand and tries to be gentle as she can.

Delphine grows wet quickly and starts to moan loudly, the sounds spilling out of her like she can’t stop herself. It drives Sarah wild. She’s had threesomes with women before but they’ve always been in bars or within crowded apartments, all with an edge of performance.The sounds and silent curses that slip out of Delphine are unfiltered and high pitched. They make Sarah rut her hips against the back of her hand and latch on to Delphine’s neck, biting skin, trying to hold on to something. Sarah feels like she might float away. She’s surrounded by Delphine, by her build up, feeling it in the pressure that surrounds her fingers and in the alternating pitch of her voice.

When Delphine comes, she kisses Sarah fiercely, like she’s committing the moment to memory.

Sarah tries to run once Delphine’s breathing returns to normal. She’s painfully frustrated but she feels close to letting her guard down. Her brain is catching up to her and she can’t be in this apartment when it does.

Delphine doesn’t let her go, climbing on top of Sarah as soon as she senses her stir. She shuts her up with a kiss and lifts up her shirt, kissing down her body. She kisses Sarah’s beauty marks and her sensitive spots, tender and graceful when Sarah had been anything but. Delphine’s mouth travels down ribs and stomach and when she finally touches her, Sarah doesn’t need much to push her over the edge. Delphine knows what she’s doing, reveling in her work, squeezing every part of Sarah’s body she can reach.

Sarah comes and it’s strong and satisfying. She feels it deep in her gut and all the way down her toes. The orgasm leaves her vulnerable and cracked open. It’s made worse when Delphine kisses her hip bones and moans in them. It’s too much.

Once Delphine’s back touches the bed, Sarah gets up and tugs on her clothes, wincing at the stickiness that coats her thighs. She leaves the apartment as fast as she can, without saying a word. Delphine doesn’t try to stop her.


End file.
